


Starker Drabbles

by TheDirtyBirdie



Series: Drabbles [1]
Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Drabble Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-05-05 20:20:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 13,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14626320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDirtyBirdie/pseuds/TheDirtyBirdie
Summary: A collection of Starker drabbles originally posted on tumblr.





	1. In Which Peter Gives Quite Possibly the Worst Blowjob on Earth

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning:** Some of these drabbles contain dub/non-con, read the summaries each chapter if you're concerned ♥

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Request:** _I love a good awkward sex scene, so like maybe the first time Peter gives head to Tony, Tony decides to come on his face and Peter gets come in his eye? And maybe even while giving him head Peter is like why and awkward about it cuz be doesnt really know what he's doing. Basically bad sex that they can laugh at afterwards. I hope this fits for a dabble request :)_

Tony is seated at the edge of the bed, stripped bare with Peter kneeling between his legs on a cushion on the floor. He’s well aware that he’s probably been staring at the older man’s cock a little too long for comfort, but it’s… a little intimidating, up close like this. If he’s honest. 

Above him, Tony sighs, and it sounds a  _little_ like he’s only doing it so he won’t laugh.

“You know you don’t have to do this if it’s too  _much_  for you.” Tony teases. Peter’s cheeks go hot but he can’t mind too much.   
“No!” He insists, glancing up at Tony and then quickly looking back down to his cock because somehow that feels less embarrassing. “I can do it.” He says, determined. 

He sucks in a deep breath and grips Tony firmly around the base of his cock, just a little too hard.

“Christ!” Tony jumps a little under his touch. “Relax, kid. You’re not trying to tear it off.”  
“Sorry.” Peter mumbles, burning all the way down his neck as he loosens his grip. 

His heart is beating hard enough to make his whole body feel off balance and he decides it’s better to just- just  _go for it_  before he loses what little nerve he has left. He wants this, he’s been wanting this for months, even years, technically. Before he even knew Tony properly. Now that it’s actually here in front of him he’s feeling a little overwhelmed. 

Straightening his shoulders and clenching his free fist he sinks forward and shoves Tony’s cock as deep into his mouth as he can manage. He makes it approximately three quarters of a second before he chokes dramatically and wrenches back, dragging his teeth too hard over the skin of Tony’s cock and making him yelp. 

He sputters and waits for the scratch of his throat to subside. When he tries to sink forward Tony’s hand flies out to stop him, pushing him back gently by the hair.

“No! No, no, no, no.”  
“You don’t want me to-”  
“I do! I do, Peter, so bad. But definitely not like that.  _Never_  like that ever again, please.” Peter sighs, frustrated and maybe a teeny-tiny bit disappointed that this isn’t coming to him quite as easily as he’d imagined. Or at all.  
“Listen, I’m gonna help you out a little, alright?”

Peter nods, and things begin to go much smoother from there. He still feels a little strange, like this. Tony’s cock feels so-  _invasive_ , though he supposes that’s the point. He doesn’t mind, exactly. It’s just very, very odd. 

Tony has him suckle at the head of his cock first, slowly dipping down to take him in a little more, bit by bit. Shows him how to curl his lips over his teeth to avoid another  _incident_ , it makes him feel a bit ridiculous, but he can hardly argue against it, all things considered. 

He tries to help Peter pick up a rhythm, pump the rest of his cock in time with his mouth, but he can’t find much consistency in either action. Super senses be damned, apparently. Stick a cock in his mouth and the horribly overwhelming combination of frazzled nerves and arousal has his coordination flying straight out the window. 

Eventually Tony gives up and takes over because Peter’s jaw aches, and his balls ache, and they’re both pretty sure that Tony’s never going to come like this. He takes Peter’s head in one hand and his cock in the other and Peter does his best to relax as Tony drags his head carefully over his cock in time with the slide of his fist. 

It’s still a little jerky, a little awkward. Peter can’t quite relax and Tony seems to be torn between frustration and amusement the entire time, but they manage. He pulls Peter back but keeps him close enough that his cock is brushing over his lips as he jerks himself a little harder and faster than before.

 _This_  Peter can do well. He can smile pretty while Tony comes on his face, no problem. It is, quite literally, the least he can do. At this point. He smiles, easy, jaw hanging a little awkwardly as he tries to decide whether he wants to bite his lip or open his mouth, slip his tongue out, and while he’s trying to make up his mind Tony comes. 

He’s so startled by the first burst of it that he jerks back just in time for Tony to shoot straight into his eye.

“Ahh! Oh- god. Ow. No.” He moans, pained, squeezing his eyes shut and slipping out of Tony’s grip as he falls back onto his butt, hands clutching at his face.  
“Jesus, Peter.” Tony half laughs through the rest of his orgasm. 

When he’s finished he slips off the bed, dropping down onto his knees to tug gently at Peter’s wrists. He can feel the older man’s hands shaking with barely suppressed laughter. Peter lets his hands fall away and carefully opens his unmarred eye, squinting at Tony’s face. He’s actively holding back the laughter, biting his lip.

“I hate you.” Peter pouts, and that’s it for Tony’s restraint. He bursts out laughing but when Peter tries to pull away, get himself to the bathroom, Tony pulls him back, reeling him in for a kiss. 

Eventually, once Peter has complained and Tony has  _almost_  stopped laughing, he guides him into the bathroom and gets him cleaned up. On the bright-side, Tony informs him, at least things can’t possibly go any worse when they have sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original](https://dirtybirdie.tumblr.com/post/173817760786/dr-i-love-a-good-awkward-sex-scene-so-like-maybe)


	2. In Which Peter Has Never Heard of Closing the Goddamn Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Request:** _one weekend that Peter is spending at the compound Tony accidentally walks in on him masturbating. Knows he should leave but the kid is jerking it in that really quick way teens do, just trying to get off quickly and Tony's struck with the urge to teach him to take his time, explore and enjoy it. And that's how Peter ends up having sex with Mr. Stark. Embarrassed Peter for sure in this one when Tony walks in :)_

Peter is going to  _die_. 

No, he’s not being dramatic. Or- he doesn’t  _feel_  like he’s being dramatic. 

He loves working with Mr. Stark, his literal hero. Maybe not his role model, exactly, but definitely someone he aspires to in many ways. When he’d suggested that Peter come stay at the compound for a weekend to help him with something he’s been working on, Peter had been  _this close_  to embarrassing himself and trying to hug him again.

There’s just one downside.

He hasn’t had a single waking moment to himself since he arrived. He gets up in the morning and it’s already time to head to the lab, he stays there until his eyes are burning and heads back to his room to pass out the second his head hits the pillow. Tony is trying to make sure they cram as much into Peter’s experience as possible this weekend and Peter appreciates it, but it’s  _a lot_.

Don’t get him wrong, there’s really nothing he’d rather be doing, but he has  _needs_. Needs that Tony’s presence, always hovering somewhere between too close and not close enough, doesn’t exactly help. 

So, he’d made up an excuse about needing to call May and slipped away. 

The second he’s crossed the threshold of his room-  _his room_ , not ‘a room’ or ‘the room he’d be staying in’- he’s shoving his pants and underwear down his thighs and throwing himself onto the bed. 

He licks his palm and groans as he finally,  _finally_  wraps a hand around himself, sinking back into the pillows.

* * *

Peter has only just left and he knows the kid needs a minute of privacy to call his aunt, fair, but there’s just one thing he forgot to tell him and he’s pretty sure if he goes now he can catch him before he calls. 

He makes it as far as Peter’s door, left open just a few inches, before he realizes what the kid is doing.

Christ.

This is definitely the moment that he turns around, slips away quietly and pretends he never saw a thing like a  _good_  mentor. Except- except his feet aren’t moving and he can’t look away.

The thing is- Peter’s eyes are squeezed shut and his body is tense, hand flying over himself, mostly dry by the sound of it- he doesn’t even seem like he’s  _enjoying_  himself. 

He’s going to walk away- he’s going to walk away and-

He steps into the room and clears his throat, pushing the door shut behind him.

Peter’s mouth drops open in a shocked mix of arousal and horror and he goes so red Tony’s pretty sure his head might explode.

“Mr. Stark- why-  _no-”_ He moans, emphatically miserable while he scrambles for a pillow to cover himself with.  
“It’s alright, you don’t have to stop, kid.” Tony says, making his way over to the bed. “Just slow down a bit.”  
“I- _what_?” 

Peter’s eyes bulge as he slips a knee onto the bed, leaning forward to reach for the pillow Peter has clutched between his legs.  
“May I?” Peter’s mouth hangs open and he manages a wordless choking sound before giving up on words entirely, nodding. Tony grins and pulls Peter’s pants and underwear the rest of the way off, settling on his knees between Peter’s legs, pushing them open a little wider so there’s room for him.

He gently pulls the pillow away and spits into his hand. In a perfect world he’d have something better, but they’ll have to make do.

“Haven’t you ever heard of chafing?” He teases as he wraps his hand around Peter’s cock, the boy shivers under his touch. “You’ve got to go a little slower if you actually want to enjoy yourself, figure out what feels best.” He’s pretty sure, as a teenage boy, anything works for Peter, but he’s a smart kid, he’ll get the point he’s trying to make.

“I- I’m pretty sure I’ve been enjoying myself, Mr. Stark.”  
“Have you? Or have you just been having orgasms.”  
“Uh- um. Is there a difference?”

Tony laughs. 

“Yeah, Peter. There’s a difference.”

Peter starts leaking in no time as Tony experiments, watching how Peter reacts to everything he tries and remembering it. To tell Peter. Certainly not to use again.

“Do you ever touch yourself here when you masturbate, Peter?” He asks, faux-clinical while he presses the thumb of his free hand over Peter’s hole.   
“I- Mr. Stark- I can’t-”  
“Answer the question, Peter.”  
“Yeah.”  
“Show me.”

Peter obeys, distressingly aroused, and Tony catches his hand before he can reach himself, sucking a finger into his mouth and letting him go. Has  _no one_ shown Peter the joys of lubrication?

Peter slips a wet finger inside himself and just- hm. He pushes into himself over and over again with what can only be described as a  _stabbing_  motion and it’s tragically inadequate. 

“No, no, no. Peter, like this.” He drags two fingers through the wet mess gathering at the base of Peter’s cock as he strokes him and brings them down to slip in alongside Peter’s own, cradling it.

Peter shudders and cries out and Tony knows that the stretch is probably a bit much, but it’s really the most efficient way to show him how to do this properly.

He works their fingers slowly into Peter, spreading, curling, pressing, tugging at the rim of him while he continues to work his cock. Peter’s squirming, seemingly unable to control his breathing, and it’s no time at all before he shudders and comes all over his sweater. 

Tony slips his hands away and makes to get up. He’s only planning on grabbing a wet cloth from the ensuite bathroom but Peter’s hand flies out to stop.

“I- don’t you want to fuck me?” Peter’s voice is earnestly confused and- shit. He really, really shouldn’t, but he  _really_  does want to, actually, which is a realization to tackle another day.

Peter is already stretched out so nice, really it would just be a waste of hard work not to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original](https://dirtybirdie.tumblr.com/post/173832907891/dr-one-weekend-that-peter-is-spending-at-the)


	3. In Which Tony & Peter Get to Be Soft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Request:** _Peter getting super emotional while being fucked by Tony. I once watched this amateur porn where the bottom was super adorable and started crying while telling his partner how much he loved him over and over. The top was fucking him hard while also like repeating back how much he loved him. I want something like that where Peter just gets so overwhelmed with pleasure/emotion that he cant hold back._

Tony is more than Peter ever thought he could have, more than he ever even knew was  _possible_.

He’s been in a few relationships, sure, but skipping class with MJ and exchanging clumsy, hurried oral before anyone’s parents get home isn’t exactly the same as a night with Tony.

Tony will spoil him, take him anywhere he wants, feed him anything he wants, bring him home and drag out their sex until Peter can hardly breathe for how wrung out, consumed and  _worshipped_  Tony leaves him feeling, and that’s just a Tuesday.

It’s not fair to compare the two, obviously, it’s not fair to compare anyone to Tony, really, because no one comes close. Peter is obviously aware that the money certainly gives him the means to do things for Peter that no one else could dream of, that’s not what makes him feel that way.

Tony isn’t thoughtful by nature. It doesn’t come easy to him, too caught up in his own mind, often going a million miles a minute and beaten down by trauma, to be able to fit the space most people do to accommodate the little things in someone else’s life, but with Peter he tries and he’s only getting better at it.

He remembers his aunt’s birthday, the anniversary of his uncle’s death, he always gives them both flowers and the space to alternately celebrate and mourn, just to two of them, for each occasion. He never makes Peter feel stupid, even when he teases him, only ever there with the unwavering certainty that Peter will eventually succeed at whatever he puts his mind to.

That was all just  _before_  they’d gotten together.

Now, it’s easy to see that Tony would give him anything, of the world and himself. It hadn’t always been clear, he’d tried, a few times before everything with Thanos, but Tony had always shot him down.

Afterwards, though, things had been different. 

Tony hadn’t let him out of his sight for weeks, entirely overbearing and Peter could hardly imagine what Tony had been through, so how could he blame him?

He hadn’t even had to push, Tony had been so relieved to have him there, solid and real and  _alive_  under his hands that he’d finally been the one to come to Peter, finally. 

Since then, things have been overwhelming, in a very, very good way. The best way he can imagine. Peter has never loved or been loved like this, and Tony has never loved so openly. It makes for a  _lot_  of emotional overload. 

* * *

The way Tony touches him, Peter thinks he must have been blind to have ever doubted that Tony felt the same as he did. Impossible to see or feel past the awe of his hero, Tony Stark,  _Iron Man_ , talking to him, touching him,  _believing_  in him. 

Now, though, Peter’s eyes are open and he feels the warmth of Tony’s love, his want, in every look and touch he sends his way. Sometimes it feels like Tony never stops touching him. Leaning on and over him always, a hand resting on his back, his hip, his shoulder, his nape, like he constantly needs to be reassured that Peter is still here with him. 

It’s always when he smiles most, relaxes most, when he can  _feel_  Peter’s presence in his life, constant and tangible and real. 

It’s no surprise, then, the way he pushes Peter beyond words when they have sex. It’s not just the force behind his hips or how deep he can reach him, it’s the way he digs his hands in, presses down into him like he can’t ever get close enough. The way he whispers Peter’s name and tells him he’s  _everything_. Not beautiful or perfect or anything untrue, just everything, to him, and Peter can hear-  _feel_  that he means it. 

It’s the way Tony is currently holding Peter up by the waist as he fucks into him, keeping them totally pressed together and whispering sweet words and promises about their future against his lips that Peter  _knows_ he intends to keep, knows he’s thought about every hour of the day. 

It’s- it’s just  _too much_.

A sob slips out, surprising them both, and when the tears begin to fall Tony slips his face down to his neck and tells him it’s  _okay_  as he starts fucking into him even harder, deeper, and Peter just  _can’t_ -

“ _Tony_ -” He sobs. “I love you, why- I can’t believe- I love you so much.” He  _knows_  he’s not making much sense, unable to string together much coherent thought between Tony’s thrusts and his skin and his-  _everything_  that causes the love to swell in Peter like he might drown in it. “I love you, I  _want_ you- forever, Tony.”

Tony exhales a shuddering breath into his neck and the scrape of his beard makes Peter shiver when he speaks. “You don’t even- you’ve  _got me_ , kid. Have since day one.” Peter’s hands tighten in his hair as it gets harder to breathe between the pressure building inside him and the sobs rattling his lungs. “I love you, Peter, I love you so damn much it’s- fuck. I’ve never felt-”

Peter comes and Tony groans, pulling back just enough to drag their lips together as he fucks him through his orgasm. When he’s down to the aftershocks of it Tony lets him slip free, slipping down on top of him fully and pulling up his thighs while Peter runs doting hands over his arms, his back, through his hair. 

“I want to be yours, too. Forever.” Peter promises softly.   
“I-” Tony chokes, breathless. “Yes, Peter. You are, I am.”

Peter promises him everything while Tony’s hips stutter and he gets everything in return, in equal measure, if not more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original](https://dirtybirdie.tumblr.com/post/173885520851/peter-getting-super-emotional-while-being-fucked)


	4. In Which Tony Has No Shame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Request:** _Peter has a huge daddy/boy bedroom relationship with Tony. May, Ned, everyone, including the Avengers, find out about it accidentally when they try to surprise Peter / Tony for his birthday, but they don't know that Tony & Peter are having a kinky birthday sex roleplay._

Peter is already half hard just  _thinking_  about the things Tony is going to do to him when he gets home. The things he’s going to make Peter do. He’s been thinking about the man’s cock all day, can’t wait to get it inside him, get his mouth on it. Not that he doesn’t want to get off, of course he does, multiple times, ideally, but there’s always something deliciously satisfying at feeling- well,  _subservient_ , a little inferior. 

He’s looked up to Tony- Iron Man, forever, much longer than he’s known him, so he supposes it’s only natural that it would carry over into their sex life. 

Either way, Tony never makes him feel ashamed- or, no, that’s not true, Tony makes him feel  _very_  ashamed, sometimes, but only so he can get off. He’s never made Peter feel ashamed of it  _outside_  of sex.

He’s in a too-small t-shirt from his middle school days and some boyish shorts that he knows Tony likes because they just barely cover what needs covering. 

FRIDAY informs him that Tony is home and nervous anticipation immediately swells in his chest. It’s silly that he still gets so excited, but he hopes it never stops.

He gives Tony a minute to get relaxed and slips into the kitchen to mix him a drink. When he reaches the living room to find Tony settled into the leather armchair by the windows he takes his place at Tony’s feet, just off slightly to the side. 

Offering up the drink, warmth curls inside him when Tony takes it and runs a hand through his hair as he takes a sip, before setting the tumbler on the table to the side. He keeps petting Peter’s hair as he speaks.

“Thanks, sweetheart. You’re doing so well already, today. A little eager?” He grins down at him and Peter can’t help the flush that heats his cheeks.  
“Yes, daddy.” He swallows hard and bites his lip, a little nervous, a little for the way Tony’s eyes zero in on the movement. “I thought about your cock all day, daddy. Please,  _please_  can I have my present? Have I been good?”  
“Hmm,” Tony affects a frown. “I don’t know…”

Peter’s breath comes a little more erratic, heart pumping harder, louder in his ears, as he tugs at Tony’s pant leg. “Daddy, please! Please, I- I’ve got a surprise for you.” Tony’s eyes go wide, grin returning.   
“A surprise for me? On  _your_  birthday? Go on, then.”

Peter shifts up onto his knees and reaches down with hands just slightly unsteadily to tug at his shorts, not enough to slip them off, just enough to reveal the red, lacy panties underneath which do nothing to keep his swelling cock contained. 

Tony groans and leans down and forward to tug them just below his ass with a groan, grabbing two fist fulls of his ass as he leans over his shoulder to watch. He slips a hand under the the stretch of fabric and runs his fingers over Peter’s centre in a tease. 

“You really have been good, baby.” He drops a kiss to Peter’s head as he pulls back, but not without squeezing his cock through his panties first. When he leans back in his chair and shifts his legs a little wider apart, Peter’s mouth waters. 

“Try not to look so pleased with yourself, sweetheart.” He teases, unbuckling his belt and undoing his trousers. He’s still soft when he slips himself free of his pants, and it stings in just the right way. Peter still has to  _prove_  himself to get Tony going.

He slips a hand back into Peter’s hair and tugs him forward, stopping just short of his cock.   
“Please.” Peter whines, desperately. “Please daddy, let me taste your cock, I want-” Tony’s hand fists  _hard_  in his hair, and he’s about to ask  _why_  when-

“Oh  _dear god_ , no.” That’s- that’s definitely the voice of Stephen Strange, followed, even more distressingly, by a loud chorus of  _surprise_  quickly cut off into various expressions of horrified amusement, or just plain horror, depending on the person. 

Tony whispers an apology and tucks himself back in his pants as Peter scrambles to pull his shorts up, but Peter can’t help feeling a little resentful about the fact that he currently  _wants to die_  and Tony looks at worst, mildly perturbed. Mostly amused. It’s blatantly unjust that he should be so entirely without shame when Peter feels like he’s on fire.

“Surprise, indeed.” Tony quips, grabbing his drink from the end table and raising it in  _a toast_. Peter immediately hides his face in his hands, groaning in deep, unending misery. 

He’s never going to be able to look Aunt May in the eyes ever again. Never- oh, god. How is he ever going to become an Avenger after they’ve all seen him  _like this_. Worst of all, he’s certain MJ’s voice was among the crowd which means he’s going to be teased about this for the rest of his natural life. 

He’s so deeply mortified that it takes a solid minute to realize everyone has vanished as quickly as they appeared. He looks up at Tony, questioning, and the older man slips a hand into his hair, looking like he’s trying not to laugh.

“Portal, that’s how Strange got everyone here so quick. Got them out pretty quick too.” Peter nods, dazed by his embarrassment. Tony just grins. He knows- he  _knows_  Tony gets off on it when he’s humiliated, and he really, really should not be into it  _right now_ , but when Tony says: “Doubt they’ll be back any time soon.” Well. What can he really say?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original](https://dirtybirdie.tumblr.com/post/173920072091/dr-peter-has-a-huge-daddyson-bedroom)


	5. In Which Peter Can’t Get Enough and Tony Can’t Catch a Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Request:** _I was thinking a drabble about where Peter is eighteen and obviously lost his virginity with Tony and now he can't seem to have enough of his cock and he finds himself worshipping it everywhere and Tony is a busy man so he's tired most of the time and sometimes he just lays there, sort of half sleep while Peter rides him constantly and everywhere and what wakes him up is his moans and begs._

When Tony fucks him for the first time, it’s so much more than he could’ve expected. It’s more painful, more awkward, and way more overwhelming. 

Not one of his innumerable fantasies had captured the sheer, overwhelming presence of Tony. His skin, his smell, the weight of him, covering Peter from the inside out and filling him up deeper than he’d really understood he could feel.

It’s incredible.

It’s  _addicting_.

* * *

The next morning he laves at Tony’s balls until he wakes up, desperate for Tony to hurry up and shove his cock in his mouth and just a little too nervous to do it himself before Tony is truly awake.

Luckily, he’s not kept waiting long, and Tony does just that.

* * *

His nerves don’t last long in the face of how good Tony’s cock makes him feel, no matter how he’s using it.

* * *

Tony comes home and fixes himself a drink. Peter manages to make it through about three minutes of polite conversation before he gives up pretending he hasn’t been daydreaming about Tony’s cock all day and drops to his knees.

For a moment, Tony seems startled, but he settles in pretty quick.

“Careful, Peter.” He warns, half groaning as Peter wraps a hand around him. “A man could get used to this kind of welcome home.” He leans in and moans over Tony’s cock as calloused fingers slide over his scalp, massaging lightly.

That’s what he’s counting on.

* * *

Tony’s only been asleep a couple hours when Peter climbs on top of him. 

“Tony, please. I need it. I need it so bad, I can’t sleep- I can’t.” He’s rubbing back against Tony’s slicked, rapidly hardening cock while he groans groggily awake underneath him. He’d wanted to wait until Tony woke up, but Tony just wouldn’t and he couldn’t wait any longer.

“Peter-” Tony rasps, voice rough with sleep. 

“Shh,” Peter soothes. “Just tell me it’s okay. I’ll do all the work. You can go back to sleep.” Tony groans, but he waves his hand and Peter knows him well enough to know that means  _go for it_ , so he does. 

He doesn’t quite manage to fall back asleep while Peter rides him, but he definitely doesn’t shake off the haze of sleep, either, lingering somewhere in-between, breathing deep and heavy, sheen of sweat slowly lighting up his skin.

* * *

The next morning, Tony wakes up to find Peter already fingering himself open next to him, begging for Tony to hurry and fill him up, whining about how he had to wait  _all night_  for Tony’s cock.

He’s not entirely sure he isn’t still half-asleep, but what’s a man to do?

* * *

The thing is, Tony is almost fifty years old, and very much a regular human man. Sure, he’s in good shape for his age, but there’s only so much he can do when faced with a super-powered, overstimulated teenager with next to no refractory period and a truly endless libido.

It doesn’t help that Peter can’t ever make up his mind about what he wants or stop before it’s too late. He doesn’t  _just_  want to suck Tony’s cock, or have the older man inside him, he wants- he wants everything.

* * *

Tony doesn’t know it, but Peter’s pretty sure he’s got a solution. 

* * *

By the time Tony steps out of the elevator, Peter’s already been good to go for an hour and a half, stretched and slicked and full of want. He practically tears off Tony’s slacks the minute he enters the penthouse, not even giving him a chance to sit down.

“Christ- what-  _fuck,_ Peter.” He’s gripping Peter’s hair hard enough that Peter suspects he’s genuinely been thrown off balance as Peter mouths messy and reverent at the head of his cock. “Can’t give a man some warning?” He sounds like he’s had the wind knocked out of him.

“I’m sorry.” Peter moans against the side of his cock, licking and kissing his way down. “Been thinking about how you taste all day. Couldn’t wait.”

* * *

Peter’s plan serves the dual purpose he intended it for. Getting Tony’s cock down his throat, and distracting him from the small, silicone ring dangling from his fingers. 

* * *

When he feels Tony’s balls tighten in his grip, he pulls off and slips the ring down over him to the base of his cock.

“I-fuck. What-  _why?!_ ” Tony sounds extremely put out by this turn of events, hips still thrusting uselessly forward on instinct, cock brushing over Peter’s cheek.

“I just-it’ll be worth it.” Peter promises as he tugs Tony down to the floor and crawls over him. Tony  _whines_  but doesn’t have time to form any type of coherent question or protest before Peter is reaching back and sinking down onto his cock. 

Under him, Tony’s hands are clenching and unclenching over his thighs and he seems unable to decide exactly how upright he wants to be while Peter ride him, moaning somewhere between pain and pleasure. Peter doesn’t particularly mind, his cock feels just as good either way, and he  _knows_  Tony’s getting off, either way.

* * *

That evening, Peter drops under the table halfway through dinner and hears Tony’s silverware clatter to the table with a defeated sigh as he works his jeans open. 

He sucks Tony into his mouth and truly, truly appreciates the way his jaw still twinges from earlier.

“Jesus Christ.” Tony’s voice is muffled, like he’s dropped his head into his hands, though Peter can’t look up to check with the table in the way. “You’re killing me kid. You’re actually killing me.”

It takes forever to get Tony hard, but Peter finds that’s not so bad, it just means Tony lasts long enough to fuck him, too, without the help of the ring.

* * *

It’s about three in the morning when Peter gets a little insecure. 

“Tony.” He whispers, nudging the other man awake. “Tony, please.”  
“So help me god, Peter, if you woke me up for sex- what’ve you turned me into- just look at me, look at what I’m  _saying_ -” Something in Peter’s chest stings.

“No, no. I mean- sort of. It’s about that. I just- do you still like it?”  _Do you still like me?_  Peter swallows. Trying to keep his voice even, not sound as small as he feels. “Am I too much?”

He hears Tony make a confused sound before the other man is turning around, pulling Peter a little closer.

“Peter- the only thing I don’t like is the fact that  _I_  can’t always keep up with you. Trust me you’re- you’re fucking incredible.”  
“You mean it?”  
“More than I’ve ever meant anything. I  _wish_  I could give it to you as good as you want it, Peter. You have no idea.”

And- Peter knows it’s a tender moment, a little bit of a vulnerable moment for Tony, but- 

“You could.” He bites his lip and tucks himself closer, slinging a leg over Tony’s hip. “We’re already awake…” Tony sighs and for a moment Peter thinks he’s pushed when he shouldn’t have, but then fingers slip from his back down into the crease of him and Tony is biting at the soft skin of his neck and-  _yes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original](https://dirtybirdie.tumblr.com/post/174561268306/drabble-request-prompt-i-was-thinking-a-drabble)


	6. In Which Tony Has Questionable Bedside Manner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Request:** _starker sick fic where Peter is sick with a fever and maybe not fully conscious when Tony fucks him? Maybe before fucking him Tony takes his temp with a rectal thermometer, which is uber mortifying for Peter._

“No, no, please-” Peter whines. He’s half delirious and covered in sweat, curled up in the covers that Tony is trying to pry away from him.

Having Peter in his bed in just such a state is something Tony’s spent more than a little time thinking about, just- not quite like this.

“Come on, kid. I know you think you’re cold but that’s just the fever talking.” With his super strength, even sick as he is, Peter is still strong, but not quite strong enough to prevent Tony from pulling the covers back, though he certainly doesn’t make it easy.

“Mr. Stark, why-” And it’s- it’s ridiculous. Peter is clearly out of his mind, but he just sounds so damn heartbroken.   
“It’s for your own good.” Tony promises, batting away Peter’s hands, reaching feebly and slightly off-target for the blankets, and taking a seat next to him so he can run fingers through Peter’s damp hair.

Christ.

He’s hot. He can feel it before he even touches his skin.

Peter’s already stripped down to his briefs, Tony’s pretty sure he couldn’t have stopped him if he’d tried, which he hadn’t. The kid had been wrestling off his clothes the minute the fever hit.

Tony won’t deny he’d looked, because of course he had, because he’s awful, but it has the added benefit of making his job easier now.

“Come on, Peter. I promise it won’t be so bad.”

Peter’s eyes are shining, wet and unfocused, half struggling just to stay open as Peter pouts up at him, looking profoundly upset.

“No.”

Tony knows- he gets it. Peter doesn’t want him to see him so vulnerable, so exposed like this. That only makes him want it more.

“It’s the only way to get a truly accurate temperature reading, kid.” It’s not. Far from it, with Tony’s tech. Even if that weren’t the case, mouth and armpit readings are only behind by a fraction. Peter is too delirious to realize any of that at the moment, though, so Tony pushes.

“I promise, Peter, it’ll only take a second.” Peter’s gone even more red as he whines, voice wet, and sinks further into the pillow. Tony reaches out to drag a thumb back and forth over his hip under the guise of coaxing him to roll over.

“No- no. Mr. Stark, it’s so embarrassing-”  
“I promise, Peter,” Tony cuts him off, voice somewhere between soothing and hungry, knowing Peter’s memory won’t be reliable enough to tell the difference, anyways. “You’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about. Why don’t you just roll over for me, sweetheart?”

Peter’s eyes lose even more of their focus with the pet name, Tony’s definitely never called him anything even remotely similar before, not wanting to risk it. He knows he’s won.

“Alright.” Peter concedes, still hesitant. With Tony’s help he gets rolled over, hips propped up on the pillow Tony slips underneath of him.

He hooks his fingers into Peter’s waistband and tugs his underwear down with care, leaving them to rest just below the swell of his perfect, tight ass.

“I promise,” Tony sighs, perhaps a little too reverent, but again, Peter won’t remember the details, anyways. “I’ll make sure you feel better, afterwards.”

He doesn’t bother to heat up the thin glass tube in his hands, thinking Peter might appreciate the cool of it and not-so-secretly craving the way he’ll startle, as he using one hand to spread Peter open. It’s possible he squeezes a little harder, spreads him a little wider than is strictly necessary, lets his fingers brush over Peter’s hole and- christ. Tony’s never seen something so sweet. So inviting.

He looks tighter than tight, visibly tensing and fluttering with nerves and the fevered tremors that wrack his body now and then. It makes Tony near sick with want.

“Alright, Peter. This might be a little cold.”

He slips the thermometer inside, watching as Peter’s asshole stretches to let the glass pass through without hesitation. As predicted, Peter’s hips jump forward and he lets out a shaky whine at the feel of it. Tony pushes until only a couple inches of glass are left sticking out and Peter is whimpering underneath him, clearly humiliated.

“Shh,” Tony soothes, running a comforting hand down over his spine and pushing at the end of the end of the thermometer with the thumb of the hand that’s still spreading him open. Side to side, not pretending there’s any excuse for it besides want. It’s not like Peter has a clue.

“Out, take it out.” Peter begs, words half slurred.

“Just a little while longer. Gotta give it time to get a reading, sweetheart.” The name works just as he’d hoped it would, settling Peter with a whine.

Tony watches, transfixed, as the thermometer moves just a little with every twitch and tense of Peter’s hole. He must feel so good, so responsive like that. Tony wonders if that’s how he would be all the time, or just like this, sick and shameless with his senses all gone haywire.

106.5°  
That’s definitely high.

It’s not quite concerning, not with Peter’s accelerated healing, but it’s definitely high. Very high.

He can already feel the heat rolling off Peter in waves, and wonders what it must feel like inside. Peter’s still got his underwear rolled down, having relaxed too much to care as soon as Tony had removed the thermometer. He wonders if he even remembers that his ass it out, with how fevered he is.

Tony wets his finger with his mouth, and scoots a little further up the bed, straddling the backs of Peter’s thighs.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter mumbles into the pillow, voice gone hazy and heavy. He must be close to drifting off, Tony had given him something not too long ago. “What’re you-”

“I just want to check your temperature for myself, Peter. It’s pretty high.”  
“But- but didn’t you just-” His words are slurring, and when Tony’s slick finger pushes up against his hole, Peter breaks off into a garbled cry, shaking but otherwise still as Tony pushes in.

“Hmm.” Tony wiggles his finger around. Crooking and stretching like he’s not hard as a god damn rock under his zipper. “You are running pretty hot, kid.”

“Mr. Stark.” Peter hiccups, he must be crying, then.   
“Hey,” Tony soothes, leaning forward so he can reach out and wipe the tears from Peter’s warm cheeks as his other hand continues teasing at his hole. “You’re doing great, Peter. I’m just- I’m just gonna give you a little more, alright.”

Peter sniffles, chest shuddering, and turns back into the pillow with a wet yawn, burying his face in it. He mumbles something Tony can’t make out and- fuck. There’s no way to hide how tight he is, but Tony can feel him slowly relaxing around his finger and he’s- he’s going to give him more than a little extra.

Tony’s got himself lined up and slicked, spreading Peter’s ass open with both hands. He’ll need to let go with one soon so he can push his way in, Peter’s going to be way too tight to do it unassisted- the reminder makes him shiver- but for how he just needs a minute.

Needs a minute to stare down at his cock, pressed against Peter’s asshole, so tight he can’t even see it passed the head of his cock when he pushes up against him with any pressure at all.

Peter’s whining underneath him, barely coherent. His eyes are heavy whenever he pulls his face from the pillow to look back at Tony but they struggle for any modicum of focus. Tony wonders how much he understands of what’s happening, right now. Wonders if he’ll think it was all just a fever dream. He’s betting on the ability to convince him of it, if Peter reacts unfavourably.

He figures it’ll be easy. He’ll act no different, maybe even extra paternal, just to make Peter feel like it’s ludicrous. React with horror if he brings it up, make him feel too mortified at himself to ever mention it again. But he’ll always doubt it.

It’s perfect.

Maybe he’ll do that even if Peter does want it. For a little while, at least. He can still let Peter  _convince_  him to give him a try, down the line.

He brings one hand up to grip his cock tight and pushes, hard. Peter’s muscles have all gone loose from the meds and the fever, and his body opens up for Tony to sink inside no problem, though he’s still so tight on his cock it’s sincerely painful.

Peter sobs under him, wet and messy and confused. He’s so, so hot. Physically, truly, hot. Tony’s never sunk his cock into a body so deliciously warm, not to mention so tight. He’s almost certain that the kid’s a virgin- was, until a few seconds ago- and fuck if that doesn’t spur him on, pushing him to pull back, groaning at the sweet drag of Peter’s body over his cock, and shove forward into him again, hard enough Peter chokes on the force of his thrust.

The angle they’re at, Peter lying face down, only propped up on a pillow, with Tony straddling his ass, he can’t fuck him too hard or too fast, but he can fuck him so, incredibly deep. Take his time, savour the hot pull of Peter all around him, falling apart.

Peter is alternately weeping and groaning, seemingly alternating somewhere between barely awake and just a little  _too_ awake, hovering in a confused space between pleasure and- who knows what. Violation, probably, and- fuck.  _Fuck_. That really shouldn’t get him off like it does. 

He keeps pushing forward and down into Peter’s body while the boy makes wet, broken sounds below him, fingers clutching weakly at the bedding. When he starts to shake Tony’s sincerely concerned for about half a second until he realizes Peter is pushing down into the mattress and- he’s having an orgasm, half out of his mind on Tony’s cock, hardly stretched and questionably wanting at best.

It’s enough to spur Tony to action and he hauls Peter’s hips up just enough that he can fuck into him with some real force. Peter jerks forward with every thrust, noises pouring from his mouth being broken up by the force of them, but Tony’s hands stay steady on his hips, hauling him back to meet his thrusts hard as he can every time.

The sound of skin on skin is somehow even more obscene than it would normally be, given the particular context and the backing track of Peter’s small, wet whimpers he seems to be choking on with every other breath. 

“Mr. Stark,” Peter chokes out, so garbled it takes him a moment to be sure he’s heard it. “ _Please.”_

Please what, Tony can’t say, please harder, please stop, please why, please  _more_ , it’s impossible to tell, but imagining the possibilities is enough to send Tony over the edge as he digs his fingers into slender hips and pulls Peter back just a little sharper, harder, groaning as he grinds up into his ass and fills him full of come.

* * *

Peter never  _does_  bring it up, but when Tony leaves the thermometer out in the lab one day, somewhere you wouldn’t particularly take note of it if there wasn’t a reason to, just to test. See for sure, he goes about six different shades of red.

It’s something to keep in mind down the line.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original](https://dirtybirdie.tumblr.com/post/174586628581/drabble-request-starker-sick-fic-where-peter-is)


	7. In Which Peter Learns There Are Consequences to His Actions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Request:** _Tony just wants Peter to be safe but Peter keeps throwing himself head first into dangerous situations, the most recent almost getting himself killed. Tony loses it and throws Peter over his lap and gives him a bare otk spanking. Maybe starts as a spanking with his hand but then grabs a flat but hard object (whatever is close to him) and starts using that. Basically Tony spanking Peter's ass super hard until Peter's crying/begging for it to stop, apologizing, and promising he'll listen._

“Are you kidding me, right now?!” 

Peter’s head jerks up, clearly alarmed.   
“Mr. Stark! I was just-”  
“Disobeying a  _direct order_? Nearly getting yourself killed, again? What’s that, the third time in as many weeks? Why is it that I seem to find you everywhere I  _specifically_  ask you not to be, Peter?”

“I- I just- what if you needed me?” Peter asks, voice small. Tony knows he’s being cruel, but he can’t stop the humourless laugh that escapes him. His heart is still in his throat, but worry is giving way to anger in near equal measure.  
“ _Need_  you? I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, Parker, but every time I end up having to save your ass on top of whatever else is going on, that’s not  _helping_.”

Peter’s eyes are shining and he just- just can’t deal with this, right now.

* * *

His heart is in his throat, and he’s doing his best not to hyperventilate while he waits for Mr. Stark. He’s not entirely succeeding. 

The elevator opens and Peter’s hands go tight enough on the metal table to put dents in it. 

Mr. Stark… well, Peter isn’t in any less trouble now than he was when he left. That much is clear. If he could just get Mr. Stark to  _understand_. 

* * *

Every word out of Peter’s mouth, every  _excuse_ , only serves to piss him off more than the last. If the kid doesn’t  _shut up_  and listen for once in his short life, Tony is going to do something truly stupid.

* * *

When Mr. Stark grabs him by the arm, he doesn’t register what’s happening until he’s already bent over Tony’s lap and he feels Tony’s hand dip under his waistband and  _yank_.

“Mr. Stark! No- please, I’m sorry-”

A metal hand comes down over the back of Peter’s neck- he’s not sure when that happened- and holds him in place. 

“I don’t think you are, Parker.” And there’s- fuck, his clothes are scraping rough over his skin and cold air is hitting his ass and his cheeks are burning hot enough to hurt. This can’t be happening. The humiliated buzz in his chest is downright nauseating and his hands are shaking where they’ve curled into the legs of Mr. Stark’s slacks. “You keep saying that, and yet, I keep finding you everywhere you’re not supposed to be.”

Tony’s hand comes down over his ass and the sharp crack of skin on skin is almost as bad as the impact of it. There are tears stinging at the corners of his eyes- this doesn’t hurt, exactly. Not yet. But it’s- what Mr. Stark is doing to him- it’s hard to think through it.

“Please-”  
“Shut up.”

Another smack. He tries to push away, but with the metal over Mr. Stark’s hand and the position he’s in it’s impossible to get anywhere, find any leverage.

“Quit moving.” Tony commands and-  _fuck_. Brings his hand down on Peter’s ass again.

“Mr. Stark,  _please_ -” Peter pleads, voice already beginning to waiver. “I’ll listen, I swear- I won’t-”  
“Kid,” Tony sighs, as if he  _doesn’t_  have Peter bent over in his lap, bare ass in the air. “Even if that were true- which I seriously doubt it is- that doesn’t change what you already did wrong, does it?”  
“I- I-”  
“Answer the question, Peter.”   
“No.”

“Exactly.” He feels a sting against his ass again and this time he can’t stop the wet cry that escapes his lips. It’s not Tony’s hand, anymore, the sting of cold, flat metal instead. He can feel the burn of a welt forming. 

“It’s time-” Another sting.

“You learned-” Again.

“There are  _consequences-_ ” Fuck, his vision is going blurry now, tears springing free from his eyes as he squeezes them shut tight. He’s fairly certain Mr. Stark’s pant leg is tearing in his grip.

“To your actions.”

* * *

Around the fifteenth time Mr. Stark brings- whatever it is he’s using- down over Peter’s ass, he realizes he’s hard. He’s pretty sure he’s going to be sick.

* * *

Around the eighteenth, he gets past his own embarrassment to realize he’s not the only one. He can feel Mr. Stark’s erection grinding up into his hip. He  _cries_. 

* * *

Around the twenty-third, he sobs through his orgasm. Shuddering and choking, messing himself right as sharp pain flares across his welted skin, sick feeling churning in his gut right alongside arousal as shame fills his chest.

* * *

“Clean up the god damn mess you made, Peter.” Mr. Stark says as he pushes him to the ground, not giving him a chance to pull up his pants or wipe himself down, still bare and sticky between his legs. 

He can’t stop crying. Can’t look Tony in the eye as he leans in between his legs.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark.” He speaks, voice timid, thoroughly shamed.

He reaches up to wipe the mess away but Mr. Stark smacks his hand away and grabs him by the chin, forcing him to make eye contact. New tears fill his vision. He just- he’d wanted Mr. Stark to be  _proud_  of him, this feels about as far as it’s possible to be, from that.

“Not like that.” It takes Peter a minute but- fuck. 

His chest shudders with suppressed sobs and the fabric of Tony’s pants drags under his tongue. The obvious bulge and heat of Mr. Stark’s erection under the fabric as he sucks away his own come- he’s not sure whether it makes it better or worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original](https://dirtybirdie.tumblr.com/post/174633984816/dr-tony-just-wants-peter-to-be-safe-but-peter)


	8. In Which Tony Gets What He Asked For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Request:** _Sometimes Tony will purposely do something to make Peter jealous (openly flirt with someone at a party maybe) because he knows when they get home Peter will hold him down and ride his dick HARD. So like, semi angry/claiming sex with power bottom Peter._

Tony is only peripherally aware of what the woman currently running her fingers down his arm is saying. What he is very, very aware of is the distinctly agitated flush staining Peter’s cheeks. 

He’s not all that close, and the room is loud, but Tony knows he’s picking up on what counts. Especially with his senses being what they are. 

He catches the way Peter’s fists are balled up at his side and anticipation settles heavy in his gut, he can’t help grinning to himself, though he does a thorough job of making sure it seems to be directed towards the woman at his side. 

It’s cruel, this little game he plays, he’s well aware of that but it’s just so hard to stop himself when Peter makes it so worth it. 

* * *

He’s about two steps into the penthouse when Peter explodes. He doesn’t turn around, doing his best to keep the curve of his lips at least semi-discreet as he goes to fix himself a drink he knows he won’t have time to finish.

“Why do you  _do_  that to me?!”  
“Do what, Pete?”  
“Don’t- you  _know_  what!”  
“I’m pretty sure I don’t, kid.”  
“Why do you let people- why do you let them touch you like that? You know I hate it! You know I can’t  _do_  anything about it-”

Tony finally looks up, quirking a brow just so.

“Can’t you?”

Peter looks back at him, holding his eyes for a long moment and looking like he wishes he could burn Tony down to the bones with his gaze alone.

“You’re  _such_  an asshole.”

“So I’ve been t-” Tony doesn’t manage to get the words out before Peter’s webs have him trapped against the wall, air knocked out of his lungs while the tumbler clatters to the ground. Peter’s on him in an instant and he  _aches_  to touch but his arms are pinned to his sides under the webbing.

* * *

When he gets Tony’s pants off the asshole is already half-hard. Tony doesn’t stiffen up that quickly and Peter knows-  _knows_  he’s been playing with him, anticipating this all night. Knows it every damn time he does it and it still drives him insane.

He still gives Tony what he wants, every time.

Tonight though, tonight he’s got a surprise. Tonight is going to be different.

* * *

Tony is feeling just peachy right up until Peter fastens a metal ring around his cock and balls, already  _very_  tight.

These nights are usually hard and fast, viciously exhausting and deeply satisfying. Afterwards his muscles burn and his heart aches. He’s not actually sure he can keep up the pace for as long as he might have to, now.

None of this seems to be particularly concerning to Peter, who strips quick- Tony’s sure he hears a seam or two tear- and climbs on top of him, clinging to the wall so easy, and silences his concerns with a hand over his mouth, held hard enough to bruise.

“Stop talking.” He breathes, sinking down onto Tony’s cock, hard- fuck, already stretched out. Peter really does know him a little too well for the good of either of them. Tony groans into Peter’s palm.

* * *

Even with the ring, he can feel himself close to coming.  _So_  close. His muscles have gone tight and his chest is rattling, skin on fire and-

And Peter pulls off.

Tony groans, emphatically pained, and Peter  _laughs_.

* * *

The next time he does it, Tony nips at his fingers and Peter shoves two in his mouth, holding it open when he sinks back down.

It’s been- well, long enough that Tony can’t actually remember the last time someone made him feel like this. It’s not a bad thing. Definitely not.

* * *

By the third time he’s certain his hips are bruised, left shaking and shuddering. He feels dizzy and sick with the force of his built up want and when Peter finally, finally leans in and whispers  _last time_  in his ear, Tony wants to cry.

The drag of his body over Tony’s cock has become almost more pain than pleasure. He feels like a damn mess. The hand in his mouth slips away to grip and his hair and pull his head back by the hair.

“I don’t want anyone else to touch you.” Peter grinds out between laboured breaths. “I don’t- don’t want you to  _want_ to touch anyone else.”  
“I don’t.” Tony swears, mindless but sincere.  
“Ever.”  
“I swear.”

Peter drops his head down to mouth and bite- just a little too hard- at Tony’s neck, fucking down onto him even harder. Tony’s pretty sure he might cry, Peter is literally draining his life through his cock.

“Tell me you’re  _mine_.”

And- christ. Who knew Peter had it in him? Normally so sweet and unassuming- if a little too rebellious for his own good- even he can’t help being surprised for as well as he knows him.

“I’m yours, kid.” He pants helplessly. “Fuck- Peter, I don’t want- don’t want any of them. I just do it so you’ll-”  
“I know.”  
“ _Fuck_ -”  
“I know.”

Peter only sinks down a handful of times more before he’s shuddering over Tony, body going tight and spasming around his cock as he sinks his teeth into his skin and it’s- fuck. So much-  _too much-_ he’s-

* * *

“This- this is just fucking  _cruel_ -” Tony moans miserably as Peter smiles to himself, sticky and sated and  _not at all touching Tony’s cock_. Or Tony’s anything, for that matter.

“You’ll live.” He shrugs happily as he picks his torn clothes up off the ground and heads for the hallway.  
“Hey- no! No, no-”  
“Goodnight, Mr. Stark!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original](https://dirtybirdie.tumblr.com/post/174639636651/dr-starker-where-sometimes-tony-will-purposely-do)


	9. In Which Everything Moves Fast, Especially Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Request:** _Peter coming untouched/ frottage with Tony?_

Truth be told, Peter never  _actually_  thought this would happen.

Sure, he’s been dreaming about it since he hit puberty, and sure, those dreams became almost overwhelmingly detailed-  _intimate_ \- once he actually met Tony properly, got to spend time around him, touch him, but he’d never actually believed, deep down that they’d end up here. 

And yet, here he is. 

Here being in Tony’s lap, with strong, calloused fingers slipping up beneath the hem of his t-shirt to trace his ribs while the hot line of the older man’s cock grinds up against him.

The feeling drives him crazy, somehow both too stifled and too much, muffled by layers of denim and cotton but the warmth of it still so clear to his near overwhelmed senses.

“T- Mr. Stark?” Peter breathes, half a whine, as his hands dig down hard into Tony’s shoulders. He feels- fuck- silly, like a child. Still unsure whether or not it’s too presumptuous to use the man’s first name when his mouth is on Peter’s neck, hands on his skin.

Tony laughs a little, low into Peter’s skin as he pulls away with a kiss just enough to speak, lips still dragging over the hollow of his throat, making him shiver as the pressure in his gut builds and tightens.

“What is it, kid?” Peter swallows, nervous.  
“Why are we doing this?”

Tony goes still underneath him, and when he feels his hands slip away he feels that it was the wrong thing to say. He immediately tightens his legs around Tony, not stifling the small gasp punched out of him by the feeling of his cock grinding into Tony’s hip, and pulls the older man back to look at him as Tony speaks.

“You want to stop?”  
“ _No_.” He hopes Tony understand how much he absolutely does not want that. “I just meant- why with  _me_? I mean- not to be- well- whatever, you could have anyone you want, Mr. Stark.” He can see the confusion leave Tony’s eyes and he’s fairly certain that he should’ve found another way to phrase it. It feels like Tony sees a little  _too_ clearly, now.

His face goes hot as Tony wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him in tight, whatever else he wanted to say dies on his tongue as the other hand comes up to stroke over Peter’s jaw.

“First off, call me Tony. Christ. You’re making me feel like some dirty old man, which I am-”  
“Hey!”  
“Come on.”  
“Alright.” Peter concedes, grinning. “Maybe a little.”  
“But,” Tony continues. “I don’t  _always_  want to feel that way.”

Peter bites his tongue, but finds himself unable to resist.  
“What about daddy?” He teases, batting his lashes. Tony lets out a deep, pained groan, and drops his head back into Peter’s neck, nuzzling and nipping.  
“You’re killing me, kid. I’m trying to make a point, here.”  
“Hurry up.” Peter whines, bucking his hips as Tony forces himself to pull back.  
“You’re the one who asked. Jeeze.”

“Point is, Peter, you’re smart, brave, clever,  _sarcastic_ \- not always a good thing, you’ve got a problem with authority that’s almost endearing-”  
“Only almost?”  
“Would be more endearing if I was never the authority.” Peter laughs, but it’s cut short when Tony grinds up against him as he continues. “You also happen to be  _incredibly_  sexy.” Peter feels himself heating up again- it’s not- he’s definitely not used to being called anything like that. Especially not while they look at him- touch him like Tony is, and even more especially not by anyone like Tony. There’s no one like Tony.

“I don’t want anyone else.” He leans in close to drag Peter back into a kiss and that’s- fuck. It’s a lot.  
“Tony.” Peter breaths as they share breath, pushing into each other again, more intent, urgent than before, Tony’s tongue grazing over his lip. 

Tony’s hands slip down his body to cup Peter’s ass through his jeans, fingers digging in as he kneads at the muscle there, dipping to mouth at Peter’s neck with a near vicious intensity. 

Peter’s own hands come down to clench and unclench over Tony’s back, looking for something- anything he can’t seem to find, too overwhelmed by the feeling of Tony’s hands, the heat of his cock pressed up against him, the sweet words he’s whispering into his skin and it’s all just-

The hot pressure building in Peter’s abdomen finally crests, sending shudders through his body and making his head spin as he grinds down against Tony’s cock, crying out the older man’s name as he shivers and shakes through his orgasm, breath being choked from his lungs by the force of it.

As soon as it’s over he leans in to hide his face in Tony’s neck, feeling so flushed he’s fairly certain he might just  _die_. 

Tony’s hand slips around to cup the front of his jeans and Peter jerks back with a whine.   
“Did you just-”  
“Shut  _up_ , please, Tony.”

He can feel Tony laughing, chest shaking with it where Peter is leant against him. Because of this, it’s extremely unexpected when broad hands slip back and under the waist of his jeans to grope his ass, tugging up his boxers enough to brush over the crease of his ass, skin to skin.

“ _Fuck_ \- Tony,”  
“Think you can come again?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original](https://dirtybirdie.tumblr.com/post/174768175851/drabble-request-peter-coming-untouched-frottage)


	10. In Which Peter Teaches Tony a Thing or Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Request:** _Tony is mentally regressed to his early teens, Peter catches him masturbating._

Peter knows, he knows that laughing would absolutely not be the right move, here. Tony at thirteen comes complete with an ego to match Tony at forty-eight, but with pride much, much more easily wounded.

He gets it, he does, he’s heard enough about Howard Stark to have a solid idea of why young Tony might be so sensitive, it’s just-

It’s just that seeing all of the raw, visceral mortification and shame of being caught with a hand down his pants that one might expect from any thirteen year old boy reflected on Tony- his Tony’s face, currently beet red- well, Peter’s pretty sure he had an easier time lifting a building than he’s going to keeping a straight face.

“It’s- uh- it’s okay, Mr- Tony. Dude.” Peter cringes, inwardly, and does his best not to let it show.

Tony is staring up at him from his place on Peter’s bunk, back against the wall with his legs pulled up on the bed. He’s got a pillow clutched between his legs, but Peter’s pretty sure he hasn’t actually taken his hand off himself. If he’s even the least bit as- impulsive- when it comes to sex, as his Tony is, he’d be willing to bet he hasn’t.

Peter slips the door shut behind himself and takes a tentative step forward.

“It’s totally normal. I promise, there’s nothing to be embarrass-”  
“I’m not embarrassed!” Tony snaps. Petulant, and very much lying. Peter bites down on his cheek to stop himself from grinning. The older- younger(?) man looks deeply unimpressed.

“Okay.” And Peter feels it coming, that vey distinct pressure rising in his chest that means it’s only a matter of time until Peter has a very bad idea. “If you’re not embarrassed, why don’t you show me what you were doing?”

“What?” Tony’s eyes practically bug out of his skull and, honestly, it’s worth it. The thing is, they haven’t been- whatever they are, for very long, but Peter has never, once had the upper hand in the bedroom. Tony’s got so much experience and so much confidence, Peter knows he’s wanted, but sometimes it wears on him.

An opportunity to see Tony squirm, for once? Not one he’s going to miss, moral quandary of the whole situation swept tidily under the rug.

“Come on, show me.” Peter does grin now, as he slips down onto the bunk beside Tony, leaning in close and noting the way his breath picks up. “I swear, it’s okay. We do this all the time, you know.”

Tony’s fingers unclench, just a little.   
“We do?” He asks, wide eyes. Peter’s not entirely sure whether the look he’s giving him is flattering or insulting, just yet. “But you’re so- so-”

Sweet? Funny? Handsome?

“Small.”

Peter gapes.

“I- hey! You’re small, we’re the same size! And you’re grown-up! I mean- not that I’m not- of course I’m grown up. It’s just, I could still- you know. Grow up.”

Tony pulls a face, like Peter is the one being an idiot.

“Okay. That’s it.” Peter huffs. “Do you want a blowjob or not?” Tony looks pained and Peter won’t lie, it’s a little wounding, at this point. “Oh, come on. I can’t be-”

“I’m sorry.”  
“-That ba- wait, what?”  
“I’m sorry. You’re cute.” Tony looks almost as horrified by his own words as Peter imagines he must feel.   
“I’m-” Peter breaks off, laughing a little. He’s pretty sure he’s got a little whiplash. “Whatever-”  
“I just said it because everything I wanted to say was so-” He chokes himself off, cheeks burning, and fuck Peter really wishes he could get away with a picture, right now.

“It doesn’t matter, Tony, honestly.” Peter grins, and leans in closer, covering the hand Tony has clutched to the pillow with his own. He’s about to speak, but Tony beats him to the punch.

“I’ve just- I’ve never done this before!” He sounds almost pissed off about it and Peter suffers through about three seconds of conflict before it just feels too good to be true.

* * *

Though he seems to have retained the stamina of the body he’s in, Tony falls apart the second Peter gets a hand on him. He runs a slick hand over the smooth skin of Tony’s cock, feels him twitching, thickening under his touch while Tony shivers.

When he leans over to drag his tongue over the thick head of him, mouth watering, tasting the bead of pre-come that’s just begun to dribble down from the slit, a truly broken sound rips its way out of Tony’s chest. Not entirely unfamiliar, but definitely startled in a way it’s never been before.

He has to hold Tony’s hips down like he never has, looks up at him and watches the way he sweats and shakes and- and he really had planned on just blowing him, but he needs more. Needs to see what Tony will be like when he gives him more.

* * *

He sinks down onto Tony’s cock and delights in the way the man squirms underneath him. It seems an impossible task, for Tony, to figure out where he wants his hands to go. His fingers knead, palms sweating, it takes no time at all to drive him to desperation and Peter has to wonder if it’s always this easy and he just hasn’t noticed. If Tony hides it so well.

The heat inside him feels familiar and foreign all at once as he begins to roll his hips, running reverent hands over Tony’s skin as he coaxes him gently into a rhythm.

* * *

Peter had hoped, really, sincerely hoped that he might be able to push Tony over the edge first, like this. For once.

He doesn’t quite manage it.

Tony is smug for the rest of the night.

* * *

When he wakes up, he’s even more smug.

* * *

“You’re a good teacher.” He can feel Tony’s grin against the skin of his neck as he says it, voice reverberating deep through Peter’s own back where it’s pressed to Tony’s chest.   
“Thanks.”  
“No, no.” Tony pants, they’re both beginning to lose their breath as Tony ruts into him, increasingly erratic. “This is- where you’re supposed to say ‘I learned from the best, Mr. Stark’” Tony simpers, a less than flattering impersonation and Peter wishes he had the will power to still his hips in revenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original](https://dirtybirdie.tumblr.com/post/175226513231/super-duper-extra-special-bonus-drabble-its-not)


	11. In Which Tony Shows Peter How It’s Done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Request:** _How would you feel about Starker where some villain manages to cause Peter to mentally regress (not physically) in age. Tony "teaches" him about sex. Some innocence kink where sex would be entirely new?_

“Please, please, Mr. Stark, sir. I- I need your help- I can’t- there’s just  _too much-”_

He looks like his Peter, he sounds like his Peter, he just- isn’t. He is, technically, but he doesn’t remember that. He’s his Peter  _before_  he was his. Years before. 

He’s also Peter before the puberty, before the powers, and it’s clear that the sudden combination of increased hormones and boosted senses has him very much in overwhelmed. If Tony doesn’t do something soon he’s a little afraid the kid is gonna tear his suit apart in a fit of anxiety, not knowing his own strength.

Tony worked  _hard_  on that suit.

He overrides the controls for Peter’s suit- easy, he’d made sure it would be when he created it, just in case- dulling Peter’s senses and watching the kid let out a heaving sigh of relief. 

It takes the next five minutes to coax a very, very frazzled and star-struck Peter into his arms so he can fly them to the compound. He does not want to see what would happen if he let the kid try to swing himself home, right now.

* * *

It’s a little odd having Peter around, like this. Looking like he always looks, but- different. Especially around Tony himself. At first he’d been a little hurt, so used to Peter being easy and comfortable around him. Open, relaxed. Wanting. Some part of him had assumed Peter would still find his presence most comfortable. 

Unfortunately for Tony’s expectations, Peter, as he knows him, had never quite let on to just  _how much_ of a fan he’d been, growing up.

He blushes bright as soon as Tony so much as looks his way, stumbles over his words, practically vibrating with nerves. Once he gets used to it, it’s a little fun, truth be told.

Too fun.

Perhaps, Tony thinks, it’s better safe than sorry.

Dr. Strange has assured them that the regression will wear off within the space of a week or two, and Tony intends to give Peter a wide berth around the compound for the time being.

* * *

It’s all going swell until some  _jackass_  from medical lets slip the nature of their relationship while giving Peter a check-up.

* * *

“Am I- are we really- do we- we-” Peter can’t seem to force the words out. Tony has to give him credit for even trying, red as he is. He looks more likely to pass out than form a proper sentence.

“Yeah, kid. We’re together.” Tony confirms, not looking up from his work. Doing his best to ignore Peter rocking back and forth, clearly nervous, on the stool a few feet to his side.

“Have we- you know-” Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Peter glance around, like someone might be listening. Like it matters. “ _Had sex_?” He asks, half-whispering. 

Tony- Tony  _really, really_  wants to laugh. 

“Yes, Peter.” He sighs to hide his grin. “We’ve had sex.” 

Something like a squeak leaves Peter’s mouth, and Tony really can’t help laughing a little, at that.

* * *

“But- but you’re Iron Man! You’re  _Tony Stark_.”  
“Look, kid. I’m not all it-”  
“You’re  _incredible_.”  
“You’re pretty incredible yourself, Pete.” Tony sighs. “Trust me, I’ve been trying to get that through that pretty head of yours for  _years_.” 

He’s met by silence, and it takes him a minute to catch his slip-up.

He really shouldn’t be tempting fate, like this.

* * *

They make it nine days before Peter finally works up the courage to ask- beg for what Tony doesn’t have the heart to refuse.

“I- I promise I’m a quick learner!” Peter is already on his lap, shifting, wavering somewhere between kneeling and sitting, like he’s not entirely sure he’s supposed to be there but not quite willing to leave. “All my teachers say so. Please, sir- Mr. Stark. Just- just give me a chance. I promise I’ll be good.”

Tony bites his lip. As if he wasn’t  _already_  going to hell for the things he does to Peter, this is really putting the final nail in the coffin. He’s already getting hard in his jeans but he lets Peter beg a little more, anyways.

“You- um- I’ll let you do anything you want to me. I swear.”

So damn eager to please. He’s not all that surprised to find out that’s not new.

* * *

“That’s it, sweetheart.” Tony soothes, running his finger along the stretched open rim of Peter’s asshole as he sinks into him. “Look how well you’re doing for me, baby.” He runs his chin along the curve of Peter’s neck, savouring the way the boy shivers from the scrape of his beard.

“I- it’s just- do I really- I can’t look, sir. It’s so- embarrassing.” Peter is struggling to get his words out, half hysterical.  
“Come on, kid.” Tony pulls Peter back into his chest a little further, spreading his legs wider as Peter bounces on his cock, thighs shaking more from overstimulation than tiredness. “Look at yourself, do it for me. You said anything, didn’t you, Peter?”

Peter finally looks up at his reflection, and Tony watches his expression as he sees himself split open over Tony’s cock, rolling his hips, so obedient and only a little clumsy. Such a good boy. Tony’s so proud. Even like this, with no memory or experience and more than enough nerves, he’s a god damn natural. Taking Tony’s cock like he was made for it.

Even with the heavy slide of skin on skin filling his senses, Peter’s weight on his legs, leant back against his chest, he can’t help finding himself most enchanted with the flush under his skin. 

Peter always turns red, but rarely so  _thoroughly_. How lucky is he, to be his sweet boy’s first (and only) twice over? To get to experience this gorgeous, fleeting mix of need and innocence that Peter embodies so perfectly. Even once had been more than he deserved, this? Tony can’t imagine what he’s done to earn such a thing twice in one lifetime.

* * *

Peter’s orgasm shakes him right down to his core, Tony can feel it. He can’t get much more than some incoherent noises and pleas past his lips as he trembles and grinds down into Tony’s hips, muscles spasming and seizing, spattering his chest and belly with his release. 

Tony’s got blood welling up where Peter’s fingers are digging into his thighs with enough force to feel the muscles jumping under his skin, he can’t move his hips where Peter has pinned them under his own, but none of it stops him from mouthing down Peter’s neck the whole time, keeping up a steady stream of filthy praise. Filthier than he’s sure this version of Peter has ever heard.

* * *

Peter’s crying as he continues to work himself over Tony’s cock. His own, wet and slowly softening, bouncing and brushing over his skin, painfully oversensitive, with every motion. 

“I can’t- I can’t-”  
“You can.” Tony soothes a hand over Peter’s abdomen, low enough he can feel the thrust of himself in Peter when he presses. “I’m so close, sweetheart. All for you, don’t you want to make Tony Stark come, baby?”

And- fuck, he really,  _really_  hadn’t actually meant to let that slip out, but the way Peter whimpers, wet and broken, full of want and adoration, well- maybe it’s not such a terrible mistake. Definitely something to be filed away for later, when Peter is back to normal.

Now that he knows he’s such a  _fan_ , it’s something he wouldn’t mind exploring. He wonders if Peter would like to call him Iron Man in bed? Is that weird? It’s probably weird, but he’s pretty sure he doesn’t care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original](https://dirtybirdie.tumblr.com/post/175229905751/drabble-request-age-playmental-age-regression)


	12. In Which Tony Gets a Show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Request:** _Tony likes to use the security cams to watch Peter in the shower sometimes. This time in particular Peter is enjoying a little "self love" (wink wink, nudge nudge). Peter doesnt know about Tony's little private shows._

“Oh man, Mr. Stark.” Peter groans, collapsing back into the cushions of the couch while he eyes the decimated pizza boxes strewn over Tony’s coffee table like he’s quite pleased with himself for eating a truly criminal amount of food. “I’m pretty sure I might die, after-all.” He’s got his uniform still half way on, pulled up to his hips, and he pats his stomach through the t-shirt Tony lent him. 

He stretches back, arms over his head, and something heavy, thick, and all-too familiar settles in the pit of Tony’s gut at the way his shirt rides up on Peter’s body when the boy lets his head fall back with a sigh before dropping his arms back to his sides, heavy, exhausted. 

It hadn’t been an easy fight, nor a particularly pretty one. He knows he won’t sleep easy tonight, and by the weariness Peter can’t quite manage to hide, behind the eyes, in the way his body sags, the bags under his eyes, he suspects he won’t be the only one.

Maybe, he thinks, guilt stretching out under his skin, flexing just enough to make itself known, as if it’s going to do any good, maybe, they both need something to take the edge off. 

Peter finally gets up, heading off down the hall with a still shy hug, which never fails to be sweet- to make Tony  _want_ \- no matter how many times he does it.

“Shower first, kid!” Tony shouts after him. “You’re smelling a little ripe, don’t want you stinking up my sheets.” Teasing just enough to make Peter laugh, tired but clearly genuine, but just sincere enough to make sure he’ll do it.

* * *

JARVIS informs him that the shower in the guest room has been turned on just as Tony settles into bed. 

“Bring up the feed, and go silent.”  
_“Of course, sir.”_

He tells himself any disapproval in the AI’s voice is imagined, though he knows well enough it’s not.

* * *

They both take their time. 

Peter’s in no hurry, it seems. Slowly washing away the grime, dust,  _blood_  of the fight, limb by limb, cloth dragging over every dip and curve of what Tony imagines to be soft skin, leaving a little trail of red rising to the top in its wake, while Tony takes his time getting undressed, turning out the lights. 

He lays back and wets his hands, tossing the bottle carelessly to the side when he’s done with it, while he watches Peter massaging shampoo through his hair. 

Peter’s sigh echoes through the bedroom, and thrill trickles down Tony’s spine, making him shiver. There’s something about this- a heady, dizzying feeling of delightful  _wrongness_ \- the same way he’d felt sneaking around the house as a child, getting into things he shouldn’t be into, seeing things he shouldn’t see - that spurs him past the burgeoning guilt every time, straight on to a need he hasn’t got the energy to resist.

* * *

His cock is heavy and aching by the time Peter groans, leaning back, half sat on the small ledge in the corner of the shower, and palms at himself with a keening noise Tony can practically taste. 

He strokes himself, slow and just a little rough, savouring the heavy heat pooling deep in his abdomen, coiling and twisting him up inside with an almost-sickening eagerness while he watches Peter do the same. 

* * *

Peter’s got his head thrown back, all stretched out like he’d been on the couch, and Tony can’t help momentarily lamenting the opportunity passed up, a familiar feeling, to have him then and there, the way he’d wanted to. 

He suspects Peter wouldn’t say no, not to him. Not for anything.

* * *

Sharp, urgent arousal courses through his veins, burning under his skin, making his lungs go heavy while his heart beats too-hard in his chest. Peter’s chest is heaving on the monitor in front of him, one foot planted on the tile below him while he bends the other knee to his chest and slides his free hand down between his cheeks. 

They moan in tandem when he breaches himself, two fingers, and Peter can’t seem to help rolling his hips as he strokes his cock and massages himself from the inside out, slow and not entirely consistent, too messy- too  _needy_  to be consistent and- christ. He’s gorgeous, Tony finds himself no more able to resist fucking up into his own hand, imagining Peter’s sweet lips wrapped around his cock while he fucks himself open so beautifully.

For  _him,_  he thinks- wishes. 

* * *

Tony tastes blood in his mouth for how hard he bites down on his cheek when Peter actually says his name, quaking like he’s barely holding himself together- and suddenly Tony’s not much better off. 

“Please, please,  _please_.” Peter’s chanting, only barely more than a whisper, over, and over, until Tony begins to think maybe it was just him. Just projecting, wanting so badly that he heard what he wanted to hear-

“Mr. Stark-  _Tony,_ please-”

And, that’s- fuck- knowing that Peter, Peter who still can’t help looking so eager, so abashed whenever he so much as hugs him, Peter, who’s so honest, so earnest in his drive to  _help_ , so goddamn young- wants what he wants- it’s enough to drive him over the edge.

He listens to Peter falling apart at the seams, moaning and near-choking on the hitches in his breath- imagines himself, there, pulling Peter’s hands away and running his own over his skin as he pushes into the tight- relentlessly tight, he imagines- heat of his body. Imagines tasting his name on Peter’s lips, feeling the way he trembles under his touch- and gives in to the coiling pleasure built to near unbearable force under his skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original](https://dirtybirdie.tumblr.com/post/177907457451/dr-tony-likes-to-use-the-security-cams-to-watch)


	13. In Which Tony Has Selective Hearing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Request:** _Tony stealthing Peter. Peter was super adamant about a condom for their first time but Tony slips it off during sex._

Tony is fairly certain that when Rhodey had suggested he cut back on the womanizing, not so gently informing him that his trail of discarded lovers was making life harder for everyone, this isn’t exactly what he’d had in mind.

Rhodey had probably been thinking of all the things Tony’s been too scared to want out loud, well aware he doesn’t deserve them, yet Rhodey always seems to pick up on, regardless.

This- well, this definitely isn’t that. In fact, he’s quite sure he gets further from that, further from deserving that, at least, with every agonizingly tight thrust up into Peter’s body. Still, though, it’s certainly another thing he’s been afraid to want out loud. Known better than to try for, until now.

He’s not sure what, exactly, had finally robbed him of his admittedly tenuous ability to deny himself something so tempting and so clearly a terrible, terrible idea. It hardly seems worth thinking about, at this point.

* * *

“Oh- wow. Mr. Stark.” Peter struggles over the words when Tony drags him into his lap, slipping hands up under his sweater. He sounds like he’s choking on air, and it spurs the fire that’s building in his chest. He wants to steal the words right from Peter’s lungs.

He settles, instead, for pulling Peter a little more sharply into his lap and burying his face into his slender neck, breathing a laugh into the warm skin there. He can feel the urge to bite down, mark the kid up, like a physical force prickling at his nerves.

“I think we’re on a first name basis, now, Peter. Don’t you?”

He feels the movement of Peter’s throat under his lips when he speaks, feels the way Peter trembles, just a bit in his lap. More out of anticipation, than fear, he’s quite certain.

“Yeah.” Peter breathes. “Yeah. Tony.” He says it like he can’t figure out whether he’s more giddy or turned on by the allowance of his first name, and Tony wonders if he’s noticed the way he can’t help grinning into Peter’s skin.

* * *

When Peter shoves him back into his chair, distressed look in his eyes, he’s so absorbed in the drag of his cock over the kid’s ass it takes him a moment to get his bearings.

“Wait!” He sounds out of breath. Tony wants to chase that. “Wait, we- we need a condom. Mr- Tony. You have one, right?”

Tony bites his lip and tries to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest. He won’t- this is already so far from okay, he’s not going to make it worse, but-

“I’m clean, and-”

“Tony-”

“You might not even need one, you know. Since the-”

“Tony, seriously.” The breathlessness is gone, and there’s something almost vulnerable under the hard look Peter’s doing his best to level at him. It makes him stir in the absolute worst way.

“Yeah. Yeah, sorry, kid. Hold on.”

* * *

Up until now, he’s managed to avoid asking Peter if he’s done this before, afraid of how it might make him feel in a way he doesn’t want to examine too closely.

Unfortunately for them both, Peter can’t help giving himself away.

The way his eyes go wide when he lets himself sink down, looking so clearly surprised, overwhelmed by the stretch of Tony’s cock. The way he shudders as Tony bottoms out, goosebumps spreading across his skin. The flush on his face leaking down his neck and crawling out over his chest.

Knowing no one else has ever gotten to see Peter like this, aware that he can’t keep it that way forever, he just wants to mark Peter up in a way that won’t wash away. Wants him to feel it forever, even if it’s just an impression.

* * *

They’ve found their rhythm, and he can feel that Peter’s getting close, tensing against the stutters in his hips as he tries to hold out a little longer. It’s obvious he’s lost in it, leant in close to share breath, barely able to hold his eyes open.

It’s perfect.

He’s perfect.

It drives him past rational thought.

Dragging Peter in closer, pressed together so tight he can feel the kid’s cock leaking against his abdomen, he gives in to his worst impulses and reaches down under the guise of tracing Peter’s swollen rim where he’s stretched around him.

Peter whimpers when he slips out, too distracted with sinking back onto his cock to question the timing.

* * *

The drag of skin against skin, even the simple knowledge that there’s nothing separating them, it’s enough to bring him to the edge in next to no time.

* * *

Peter finishes first, dragging Tony along with him, and he can feel the moment Peter realizes what’s happened.

He’s just slumped against his chest, boneless in Tony’s arms as the older man rides out the last of his orgasm, when he goes stiff again.

“I- did the condom break. I felt you-” It sounds like he’s trying to swallow against a sob. Something hurt. Like he already knows the answer and he wants Tony to lie to him.

“No. It didn’t.”

Peter’s trembling as he pushes himself up, unable to meet his eyes and cheeks burning with shame.

Tony watches him dress and the barely held back tears in his eyes- visible evidence of already undeserved trust broken- are nearly enough to have the self-loathing that’s weighing down his chest competing with the bone-deep sense of satisfaction that’s settled inside him

Nearly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original.](https://dirtybirdie.tumblr.com/post/182627347201/dr-tony-stealthing-peter-peter-was-super-adamant)

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](https://dirtybirdie.tumblr.com/) to say hello or submit a request ♥


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